


The Science of a Blogged Love

by 221bpottersmindpalace_15



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: sherlock bbcsherlock johnlock fanfiction story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:46:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9923462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221bpottersmindpalace_15/pseuds/221bpottersmindpalace_15
Summary: 2 years after the Reichenbach, John seems to have finally moved on from Sherlock...except he is back and both of them are discovering some new feeling.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is the first chapter to the fanfic I'm writing. Its my first one so I hope its okay. shoutout to @downpouroffeels who helped me edit this.   
> There are slight references to death, depression, and suicidal impulses in this.

Chapter 1

John Watson woke with a start, he was sure he heard….but of course not, he was just imagining things…again. He had taken his therapist's advice and moved out of the comfort of 221b Baker Street...she said it wouldn’t be good for him.   
It would evoke emotions. Triggers.

He just wanted the voices to stop. 

Well the therapist was wrong, he wanted to be back at Baker Street. He wanted Mrs Hudson’s warm smile and the sound of shots hitting the wall, the sound of the sombre violin, the cries of the energetic man who had been his partner in crime. He wanted Sherlock.

All he wanted was Sherlock back here with him, and he wanted the unspoken words to be spoken, he didn’t want to be left with the ghost of him. Not the constant voices of the best memories, not the lingering sound of the violin. He wanted him. 

His whole body shuddered with grief. He was shaking, shivering, soft tears exploding from his eyes like a fountain. When would this pain end? Would it ever end? 

John slowly got himself up and took deep breaths. He got himself a glass of water and sat back on his bed, glancing at the alarm clock: It was 4 am. He tried to think of any coping mechanisms he had, any at all. But all he had was his blog and he couldn’t return to that again, he couldn’t. It felt like years that he had sat in that dingy flat he had rented on his pathetic bed.

Sitting. Alone. Again.

The nights were the worst, it was either no sleep or shit sleep. The dreams came to haunt him. 

It’s always the same one. 

Sherlock at the top of the building

The call, the fall, and the body. 

The mangled, bloody, body that haunted him day and night, that broke his heart. He didn’t deserve this, John’s blood pumped with fury at Moriarty, at everyone who turned against his best friend, but what use was it to be angry now. It was too late.

It was too bloody late, and now he’ll never say it. He would never be able to say he loved Sherlock Holmes.  
\---

Little did John know, many miles away, Sherlock was thinking exactly the same thing.

It killed him, having to be away from the place he’d grown to love, to be away from the man he’d grown to love too. John Watson had allowed him to feel again in a way that was beautiful. He had saved his life in so many ways and Sherlock felt he could never repay him. 

John had saved his life, but Sherlock had destroyed his. 

At least that was how he felt. He had left him alone again, and he wasn’t sure he would ever forgive himself.

He knew that this way was the only way but he didn’t want it to be. He felt unsafe, insecure, and alone. How could he do this undercover operation without his partner, without his friend. How could he stay away for months, years, his life on the line without John Watson. How could he live with himself knowing he might never see him again?

With a sigh, he waited. He was expecting someone, a man. It had taken him a long time to get to this stage, a lot longer than he had expected. Three weeks. He had been off his game. And quite honestly, after having had so many years of solving cases with his best friend, he wasn’t sure he could ever face the world again without him.

Because he missed it, he missed it being just the two of them. Just the two of them against the rest of the world.

\---

So the two of them sat, separately, lying awake at 4 am on this stormy morning, completely unaware of the others thoughts and feelings. Completely unaware of what the future held. Lying awake in this unsettled feeling of loneliness that they had both quite forgotten existed over these years. For the first time, the soldier and the detective felt quite afraid without their only companion. Without each other, they felt the stars of fate would never be aligned comfortably unless they fell on the same path again.


End file.
